


Or Something

by insertcleveruserhere



Category: Fables - Willingham, The Wolf Among Us
Genre: Bartender - Freeform, Bigby Sex, Bigby is a teddy bear, Chair Sex, Consensual Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Grendel is mildly jealous, Holly is sweet, NSFW, Sex, Smut, Trip Trap, Woody is a creep, and you can't convince me otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 08:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14052627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcleveruserhere/pseuds/insertcleveruserhere
Summary: She had become a central part of Fabletown, making a name for herself during the calm. No one really knew where she came from and no one pried to figure it out, but she was good, and kind, and just borderline manipulative, but never had malice intent. Most Fables would call her a relief. Bigby considered it something a little more erotic.~~“Yet? You expectin’ him or something?” He raises a brow as she turns away, not looking at him for once. Grendel stands, yelling his goodbyes to the staff, making a point not to speak to Bigby.“Or something.” She washes out Gren’s glass and sighs.~~Woody scoffs, looking between her and Bigby, “You two shagging or something?”“Or something.” She says softly, staying close to Bigby.~~“You can’t just say that and not tell me who.” She says, covering it – whatever it was – with humor, “Is it Woody or something?”He snorts behind his can, “Or something.” There was something oddly satisfying about using her own line against her, but she couldn’t see the shit-eating grin on his lips as he drank from his can.





	Or Something

**Author's Note:**

> So there's not that much smut? But there's a lot of sexual tension and mutual pining, and I think I mention masturbating once? But, there is a lot of swearing and Bigby being Bigby. The biggest warning is that I didn't edit this once and it was an idea that just happened upon me. Unbeta'd, and I didn't read over it once out of fear I would hate it, so I wanted the world to hate it before me.
> 
> Enjoy, sinners.

Holly had been complaining that she needed new help at the Trip Trap for ages, so it didn’t come as a surprise when she did just that. 

The girl she hired on was a Fable, with a smirk that had everyone wanting to talk to her and a quick wit that made everyone talk about her. Holly seemed to like her, and only said good things about her, so she must have been able to keep up with Holly’s rough exterior and the even rougher customers that came through. 

What did surprise people was the evident rise in visits to the Trap from Fabletown’s own sheriff, Bigby Wolf. He took a liking to the girl, kept his biting sarcasm to a minimum for the first time ever, lit her cigarettes from across the bar while Holly made jabs about how it was ‘bad for publicity’ if her hired hand was seen smoking, even though she had a cigarette between her lips, and listened to her stories. 

And she wasn’t scared of him.

She had to have heard about the Crooked Man’s execution – she had to have heard the rumors and the facts and Holly’s side of the story and everything in between. She was a bartender, for Christ’s sakes, and was a good one. Bigby had seen her get Grendel to open up to her about nothing and everything at all with that little infuriating smirk.

What he wouldn’t give to have that smirk all to himself.

She had become a central part of Fabletown, making a name for herself during the calm. No one really knew where she came from and no one pried to figure it out, but she was good, and kind, and just borderline manipulative, but never had malice intent. Most Fables would call her a relief. Bigby considered it something a little more erotic. 

“Holly treats me good.” She tells Bigby one night – he comes in every night he has off, which, in reality, is a lot more often after the Crooked incident – as she wipes down the counter and grabbing Grendel’s empty glass, “Place to sleep, and enough to keep myself going. Much better than the last shithole I worked in.”

“You just upgraded shitholes, sweetheart.” Holly scoffs, fumbling with her lighter. 

Bigby downs his shot of whiskey, and he pretends he imagines the way she glances down to his lips when he licks the alcohol off. She smirks, and he feels it go right to his groin, “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Holly.” She says, not bothering to look away from Bigby.

She finally breaks eye contact when she pours Grendel another drink, but holds it away from him when she asks, “You have a ride home in line, Gren?”

Grendel rolls his eyes, “Yes, Mother, now give me the shit I came for.”

She sets the drink in front of him and walks – no, saunters – back over to where Bigby sits, leaning against the counter, and giving him an amazing view of her cleavage as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Can I bum a cigarette, honey?” She leans forward and whispers, “Next drink’s on the house.”

He watches her lips, but Holly scoffs, “Keep giving your mutt free drinks, ‘honey’, it’ll come out of your pay.” Without thinking, he pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his pockets and offers her one, lighting it as soon it she put it between her lips. 

She takes a long drag, tapping the end in the ashtray and blowing the smoke toward the ceiling as she goes to refill Bigby’s glass. 

“How’s work, Wolf?” She asks, cigarette in her lips as the whiskey meets the glass. 

“Slow.” He answers, too gruff for his liking, “Suppose it’s a good thing.”

She takes another drag and pauses, standing in front of him, “Suppose it is.” She sets the drink in front of him, giving Holly a sideways glance, to which her boss gives a scoff and walks to the backroom. Gren watches the exchange, shaking his head as he tosses a wad of cash on the table. 

“Woodsman come in tonight?” Bigby asks, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

She purses her lips as she grabs Grendel’s glass, “No. Not yet.”

“Yet? You expectin’ him or something?” He raises a brow as she turns away, not looking at him for once. Grendel stands, yelling his goodbyes to the staff, making a point not to speak to Bigby. 

“Or something.” She washes out Gren’s glass and sighs, something any mundy wouldn’t have been able to hear. “He’s been here every night since I was hired on, Bigby.”

Bigby sobers up at that, “He hasn’t tried anything, has he?”

“Nothing, no…nothing physical, at least.” She sighs, walking back over to the bar, the only noise for a few heavy seconds being the crappy music Holly chose. “You know how drunks are, especially those kinds. It’s nothing I can’t handle, Bigby.” The hand on his arm is a little too tight and the smile on her lips is a little too forced, but he lets it drop for now. 

“I’m gonna hang around until then.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he holds his hand up, “No buts. I’m the sheriff, remember?”

She huffs, but doesn’t protest, “You’re buying me a drink.”

“Thought you said they were on the house.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, but looks at him with a lidded gaze, the remnants of a smile on her lips. 

“You’re not as bad as everyone says you are, Wolf.” She purses her lips then, her gaze flickering down to his lips. He pretends to miss it, watching those eyes every step of the way. 

“That so?” 

“It is.” She pulls away then, with their lips just a few inches away, a good push forward and they’d would’ve been kissing. He curses himself for getting his hopes up, “You’re still buying, right?” She grabs the very same bottle of whiskey he’s been nursing all night. 

He scoffs, “I dunno what unlimited wallet you think I have, but that’s definitely not the case.” 

She raises a brow and defiantly refills his glass and pours her own, “I can put it on your tab.” She jests, putting the glass against her lips and taking a long sip. She notices that he watches, but at this point, he doesn’t particularly care. 

“Bigby, I-.”

She’s interrupted by the obnoxiously loud slam of the door. She bolts upright, jumping at the noise, while Bigby casually turns around, brow raised as to who it was, exactly, breaking their quiet time together.

The Woodsman, of course, but it came as no surprise. 

“Whiskey.” He all but grumbles, sitting at Bigby’s left hand, a little too close for comfort, and sets his ax on the bar. Bigby spares him a glance before giving her a reassuring nod and going back to nursing his own whiskey. Woody reeks of alcohol already. 

She taps the bottle they were sharing, pouring him a glass. Instead of taking it, though, he snatches the bottle from her hands, drinking straight from it. 

“Shitty day, Woody?” Bigby asks, eyes on her as she grabs the glass from Woody and sets it front of Bigby, more as a reason to get away from the Woodsman than anything. 

“Not in the mood, Wolf.” He says, slamming the bottle on the table, “How much are you going for, hm?” He’s turned to her, and Bigby sees her eyes flicker to the ax on the bar, “Come on, out with it, bitch.”

Bigby slams his glass down, looking over to Woody, “Show the lady some fucking respect, Woody.”

Woody scoffs, looking between her and Bigby, “You two shagging or something?”

“Or something.” She says softly, staying close to Bigby.

Woody snorts, “Pretty sure that’s bestiality.” Bigby all but growls, and she shoots him a worried glance.

“You fucking with my customers again, Woody?” Holly calls as she steps out of the backroom, already looking angry. Bigby watches as she visibly relaxes as her boss makes herself known. 

He pulls another long drink from the bottle, “Just exercising my right to service, Holly.” 

“Sure.” Holly lights a cigarette, “You. Go out. Have fun. Sheriff, go with her. Take care of her.” Her voice softens, “Please.”

“Holly…”

“I’ll be fine. I can close up on my own. You deserve the night off, kid.”

Her eyes pass from Holly to the Woodsman and back to Bigby before she asks, “Wanna get out of here?”

He doesn’t hesitate to stand, handing Holly the handful of bills and thanking her, watching the younger woman excuse herself and walk into the backroom to grab her things. 

“You’re lucky, Wolf.” Woody says, thumbing the neck of his bottle. 

Bigby decides to humor him, “How so?” 

“That girl’s wrapped around your finger.”

“I meant it, Wolf. Take care of her.” Holly says, “She’s one of the only good ones we got left.”

“I plan to, Holly.” He shoves his hand in his pockets, “I’ll damn sure try.”

“You’d better.” Holly says, placing herself behind the bar where she had just been, and as if on cue, she emerges from the back room, a different shirt and pair of shoes on, and she smiles at Bigby as she shrugs on a jacket. 

Their conversation is nonexistent as she leads him outside, and as the air hits her face, she finally asks, “What is it we’re supposed to do, exactly?” 

Bigby rubs the back of his neck, looking up and down the seedy street, “I would suggest getting drinks, but…”

“You would take me out for drinks, huh?” She jokes, nudging him with her elbow. 

“I’m pretty sure I just bought you a drink.” 

She laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound he knows he’d like to hear as often as she’ll let him, “Well, we have the city? Is there anything worth seeing?”

“You haven’t been around the city?”

“That’s the problem.” She says, hugging herself, “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen everything.” She fills her cheeks with air and sighs, her breath visible, “Can we go back to your place? I haven’t been to the Woodlands and it’s cold as hell.” 

He was pretty sure the woman he’d been infatuated with for months just asked him to go back to his place, but he convinced himself not to read into it too much. 

That was how they ended up in the backseat of a taxi with a driver who turned the radio up a little bit too loud, and Bigby knew exactly what he assumed they would do. 

She curls into him, nestling her head against his shoulder, and he tenses for just a moment before feeling just how cold she was, “You’re freezing.” He states the obvious, cursing himself for it.

She nods, her forehead scraping against the stubble on his jaw, “You’re like a heater.” 

He knew that she knew it had something to do with the side effects of being a wolf, and instead of explaining it to her, he calls up to the cabby, “Hey, can you turn up the heat?” The driver complies without a word, and hesitantly, Bigby puts his arm around her, pulling her close. 

She’s stopped shivering by the time they make it to the lobby, raising a brow at the sleeping deskman, and follows Bigby into the elevator. Flycatcher waves to them, and when he sees they’re together, does finger guns at Bigby.

Bigby groans, and all but punches his floor number, earning another one of her laughs. “I’m pretty sure it knows you wanna get there.” She jokes, and he turns to look at her. 

He’s a sucker for her, the way she moves, the way she smiles, hell, the way she smells. And so, he cracks a smile. 

She takes in his apartment in, folding her jacket over the arm that hand her bag on it. “It’s nice.” She says, taking what little there was in, “Definitely better than what Holly qualifies to be a ‘board room’.” 

Bigby snorts. Holly had tried to get away with hiring her and renting out an air mattress in her room, separated only by a shower curtain she managed to convince Gren to put up. 

“Don’t have much to offer. If you want to sleep, I’ve got the chair. I might have a beer or two in the fridge.” Bigby rubs the back of his neck bashfully, wondering how she convinced him to bring her here. 

“You sleep in the chair?” She raises a brow, an amused smile on her lips. 

“It serves its purpose.”

She looks around the apartment one more time before asking, “What’s the deal with you and Woody? Didn’t he cut you open or some shit?” He pulls out his pack of cigarette, lighting hers with the one he smokes. She smiles as a way of saying thanks, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah, my C-Section didn’t go as planned.” He steps into the kitchen as she snorts, “Beer?”

“Please.” There’s a long silence, save the hum of the fridge and the clatter of beers as he gives her one, and she purses her lips before asking, “So, you and Snow, huh?”

“What about us?” He asks, voice gruff though he knew her intention wasn’t remotely one of malice.

“I’m a bartender, Bigby. Rumors get around. Everyone’s talking about…you two.”

He catches the hesitation, and raises a brow, taking a drink. Liquid courage, he decides, and says, “I won’t lie. I liked her for a while, but I’ve had my eye on someone else for a while.”

He hears her breath hitch rather than sees it, and she tries to hide it behind her beer. She couldn’t have felt the same, but there she was, holding onto her beer can a little too tightly and smoking her cigarette a little too quickly. 

“You can’t just say that and not tell me who.” She says, covering it – whatever it was – with humor, “Is it Woody or something?”

He snorts behind his can, “Or something.” There was something oddly satisfying about using her own line against her, but she couldn’t see the shit-eating grin on his lips as he drank from his can. 

“Then who is it?” She presses, cigarette and can in one hand, trying to look nonchalant. 

Fuck it, he decides. He smashes his cigarette against the countertop. 

“You.”

That’s how they end up in the chair. 

Actually, technically, he’s the one in the chair. Neither of them really insisted for that particular position, but he would admit there was something erotic in having the girl he’d been pining after for months driving herself onto him, tits bouncing in his face with a thin sheen of sweat across her skin.

But, hey, he wasn’t complaining.

He grips hold of her hips, and she moans out. She’s so fucking responsive, it drives him wild. His nails bite into her skin, and she cries out a string of ‘please’ and his name like a prayer, and he’s damn sure he wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life, so long as she’d let him. 

“Bigby.” She practically groans his name out, and he yanks her hips back down before their pace called for it. She yelps out, burying her face in his sweat-covered neck, biting and licking at the skin there. 

He bucks his hips up to meet hers, both of them trying to outmatch one another’s paces, egging one another on to that peak they craved, the one that they had spent countless nights trying to reach on their own, and she moans out as his tongue and teeth practically ravishing her neck, never skipping a beat with his thrusts.

“Bigby.” She says again, her nails digging into his back, “Bigby, please.” It was such a pretty request, one he didn’t think he had the heart to deny, and so, his hand dips down to add just the right amount of pressure to just the right spot, and it has her screaming into his neck. 

As way of helping him, she clenches around him, breaths sporadic and uneven, kissing across his face sloppily, and it’s enough to undo him. “Shit.” He swears, and she smirks at him, that damnable smirk, but now it’s for him, just for him, and he’s more than alright with that.

“Well, Sheriff.” She breathes out after she’s pulled herself off and situated herself on his lap, “Give me a few and we can go another?”

He raises his brow, looking her up and down, because he’d be damned if he ever got tired of her, “Just give me the word.” She kisses him, and he’ll be sure to ask how she feels about making this more along the lines of long term than a quick hookup.

But he’d promised her round two.


End file.
